Rise of Darkness
by EmeraldDragon2
Summary: After the end of Harry's 5th term at Hogwarts, he is left in his own room to brood over all of his memories and thoughts. Over time Harry evolves and changes; how will the rest of the Wizarding World react to the rebirth of The Boy Who Lived?
1. Rebirth Through Darkness

Rise of Darkness

Prologue- Rebirth through Darkness

          If one would've looked into the room with numerous locks broken in various places, they would shiver and become petrified of the boy who calmly bore his emerald orbs into their own, seeming to be searching into their own soul as if looking for some type of answer to why he had become what he had become. This boy wore a mask of the coldest indifference ever unleashed into the world. At first glance one might suspect him to be an antisocial 16-year old boy who rarely listened to anybody. Yet, when he was further examined, it seemed that this boy could be filled with only one, sinister entity: Darkness. 

          His appearance could first suggest to someone that this boy wasn't just a mere teenager. His deep black hair splayed out into every direction that physics who allow his ear-length hair to go. His ears had a jumble of piercings, the earrings black, silver, and a deep green. His skin seemed akin to porcelain, yet a fall could not make this boy shatter. His face lacked any signs of visible emotions; the only clue to what was happening behind the mask was an occasional arch of the already arched eyebrows and a churn of color in his eyes. Glasses tinted green and black were perched on the bridge of his nose. His skin and eye color contrasted sharply with his accoutrement. He wore baggy black jeans that covered his worn black and green Converse (A/N: I don't own Converse, so don't sue me. But those shoes are wickedly twisted ^_^) shoes. A black trench coat was worn over a silk blood-red shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his rigid chest revealing a black wife-beater with a worn red, white, and green skull in the middle. Today this enigmatic boy leaned up against house number 4 on Privet Drive. His tall, muscular, and lean form could be spied through the heavy rain and the dismal gray light. A relatively small stick was held in one hand as his pink lips chanted. For a second and a second literally, his sparkling, yet malevolent green eyes tinged with red. Then, rather slowly a small, sadistic grin grew onto his angelic-like, yet deadly face. Slowly a hand of long slender fingers crept up to the dark hair and pushed in off of his forehead, revealing a lightning-bolt-shaped scar. With a sudden yet graceful movement and a swish of the cloak-like trench-coat, the boy trudged back to the door of number 4 Privet Drive. He then retreated back into the confines of his room, leaving only waves of frigid air to signal his arrival. Every single soul in the Wizarding World knew who this boy was. But no one could ever possibly know what this boy had _become_. This boy was Harry Potter, reborn through the darkness of life.

                             To Be Continued…

Next Chapter: The Flame Ignites-Harry triumphs over 3; 3 who passed at Harry's own hands.   


	2. The Flame Ignites

EmeraldDragon: Bleah…writers block sucks grumbles incoherently any way heres the next chappie!! Enjoy!

Chapter 1- The Flame Ignites ( A/N: hehe fire is cool… anyway to the story!!)

          "Get down here here boy! You left tracks of mud all through the hallway! And I also want you to polish all of my Dudders trophies in the trophy case when you're done with the floor. Don't forget to do my prized gun either. Did you register that you filthy, lowly, piece of-,"

          "Do it yourself, Vernon," hissed a deep smooth voice from behind a battered old white door.

          "Wh-what did you say?!" sputtered a purpling Vernon.

          "There is no reason for me to repeat myself. Yet, my mind has changed. I think I'll do the bloody work after all, breathed Harry from under a curtain of ebony hair as his tall form appeared in front of Vernon.

          Vernon chilled when he felt Harry's frozen stare. He realized that, only after Harry's first 2 weeks back from that school of his, Harry changed rapidly both mentally and physically. He was so much colder and actually…sinister. His only smiles were so wicked that Vernon actually felt fear starting to surface when ever his beady little eyes spied the boy.

          Harry slowly strided past his uncle who seemed to be fighting off something in that ugly little head of his(A/N: should I also mention flabby shudder? O well I'll leave it this way). Harry felt a sudden urge to irk his uncle further. Right before Harry walked down the steps, he whirled around to his uncle with his own unique satanic grin planted across his pink lips.

          "Uncle Vernon," Harry mock-cooed.

          Vernon visibly paled as he turned to Harry. He quickly slipped on an angry mask, hoping that Harry failed to see the fear plastered onto his face.

          Taking the questioning and angry look as a silent 'What?', Harry raised his head from his chest. "Hocus Pocus Vernon!!" Harry chanted quickly as he raised his wand in a mock spell-casting fashion.

          Vernon raised his arms above his head and, with a very feminine ( A/N: Is ickle Vernon not telling us something?? ^_~) scream, threw his body into his bedroom, closing the door as soon as he plucked his shaky and fat form from the floor.

          Harry laughed harshly as he hopped down the stairs. His movements were very graceful and even somewhat cat-like for a boy of 5ft and 10 inches.

          Aunt Petunia was, as usual, cooking and fattening up her already whale-like son, Dudley, in the kitchen. Even they had sensed a change in Harry, for their very own senses screamed for them to not cross Harry's path in his presence.

          With a ghost of a half-smile, Harry entered into the pristine white kitchen. With Harry's entrance into the galley the shimmering white seemed to darken. Harry's full lips slowly bent back, revealing his perfectly pointed white teeth. This was the slow smile he reserved specifically for Petunia. She shuddered violently and ushered her son, who was shaking oddly, despite the fact that he was shoveling vast amounts of food into his chubby mouth, out of the kitchen and out of Harry's presence. Harry chuckled lightly and grabbed a rag to polish his _dearest _uncle's trophies ( A/N: for all of those people who are sitting there saying ' wait doesn't he hate his uncle?' its called SARCASM, ok? Sheesh). As Harry approached the trophy case, he heard Uncle Vernon slowly descending the stairs. Harry's eyes swirled again, this time revealing red spark intertwined into the black pupils. As soon as Harry's one hand closed around Uncle Vernon's prized gun, Harry released his trademark grin. He then turned his head towards Uncle Vernon, who gave a snort of superiority at the sight of the boy cleaning up the trophy case.

          "You know, boy, the only reason I… reacted as I did when you pulled that little stunt of yours was only because you caught me off guard. I know you can't kill me, less harm me with your magic or you'll be kicked out of that school of yours," sneered Uncle Vernon.

          "You're right," Harry said emotionlessly despite the grin that continued to grow on his face. "I can't kill you by magic but I can with other things, things that WONT be putting me into expulsion." With every word Harry's voice had become louder, more evident, more threatening. Harry quickly spun around and pointed the gun at Vernon's temple.

          "Goodbye _dearest_ Uncle Vernon," Harry hissed as his grin and eyes grew and his finger pulled that trigger.

             Surprise flitted over his uncle's face as his thick blood splattered to the floor. He let his uncle's body slump back down to the floor, blood still oozing from the tunnel in his uncle's head.

          "Just wonderful Vernon; you've gotten the floor dirtied again. Such a shame," Harry spoke calmly to the twitching corpse.

          "What has happened in here-" called Aunt Petunia's screechy voice as she dashed into the room. The sight that greeted her seemed to want her to vomit up all of the contents of her undersized stomach. Blood spattered the gleaming oak floor, dotting it like petite rubies, Vernon's slumped form was still and leaning awkwardly against the wall by the stairs, and Harry stood in a tall and almost demonically regal manner with Vernon's prized gun pointed at her.

          "I just sent your husband to hell. He's waiting for you. Now could you just be a doll and stand there when I shoot you for you being the petrified little wench you are?" scoffed Harry as he cocked his head to the side, grinning cynically at her.

          "You devil! You murderer! How could-" Petunia's words were interrupted by a loud shot. Her widened eyes stared up at him from behind thick streams of the red fluid, making Harry cackle with wicked glee. When Harry finally recovered himself, he crept silently to the backyard where Dudley was now cowering. 'Oh, this will be quite enjoyable,' Harry thought to himself. As soon as he had strided out onto the dark green grass with the scarlet and deep black sky above him, a small whimper reached Harry's heavily pierced ears.

          "Come out; come out wherever you are piglet. You'll soon be joining your parents," called Harry into the shadowed shrubs.

          Abruptly, a bush quivered. Harry spun around, still livid and now fully aware of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He closed his long fingers around the chubby neck of his cousin as Dudley fell from his midair attack. Harry's eyes sparkled bizarrely as a new, somewhat gruesome idea came to his head.

          "Shame on you, piggy. Now you're going to suffer," scolded Harry, still with his twisted grin.

          The cool metal grazed the hanging flesh (A/N: shudder yea I know I kind of got a little queasy there too) of Dudley's neck. A muffled shot echoed off the houses of Privet Drive. Dudley had fallen to the ground, writhing in immense pain, his face contorted with a mixture of pain and shock. Blood was gushing from the wound in his neck like a rushing river. Harry pulled out a small dagger, coated in what smelled like rubbing alcohol and vinegar. Harry dug the dagger into the hole, turning it into the tough muscle. He then stood up and intently watched the struggling Dudley. Finally, after about 3 minutes, Dudley's eyes became dull. Harry smiled sinisterly; his evening turned out perfect. He knew that he had to leave quickly. The police would come and they would see the twisted bodies and say this was a multiple murder or a suicide if they were as dull as Dudley's dead eyes. The newspapers would call it a front page issue. The story would be dubbed ' Respectable Family Downed By Murderer; Neighbors Mourn,'. He knew that this would be a tragedy for anyone but him because, for him, this was a **_triumph_. After many years of trying to start the fire within, it had finally lit. The flame inside him burned viciously, for the flame that was extinguished long ago had finally been rekindled. The flame of the new Harry Potter was not ignited in the darkness that was **him**.**

Whew! Finally I finished that chappie! doing victory dance anyway, our little Harry is soo sinister, isn't he? I love it when he's like this. Too bad he isn't real sighs wistfully. Many thanks to all who inspired and told me about my wicked little story. Next chappie up soon HOPEFULLY. Its Rendezvous with Reality- Harry gets some surprising reactions from his friends cough-cough well adios!

                             EmeraldDragon      


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